My nephew Colin is two and one-half. He is the cutest child I have ever seen. He has a tiny, expressive face and a joyful demeanour. But like all little ones, he started going through the “terrible twos,” a challenge for every parent.

Sensing his mom’s frustration, he put his little hands on her cheeks and said, “I am your good boy, Mommy. I make you happy.”

Watching my sister with her baby, I think how much our mothers mean to us when we are small; the lengths they go to for us; the hours they spend cuddling and comforting, nurturing and providing.

For the first years of life, we depend on them to meet our every need. Our moms are our entire universe.

But as we get older that attachment changes. The ebb and flow of devotion takes a turn as children grow and show their independence. Soon we are going to school and mommy isn’t there all the time. We don’t need her to do all the things she used to do. We can do it ourselves.

Then, in the blink of an eye, we become teenagers. The world becomes challenging and difficult to navigate. Before, we would have turned to mom to make it all better, but now it is more common to hear shouts of “You’ll never understand!” and the slam of the bedroom door.

If we are lucky, the bond between parent and child endures through those angst-filled years, and once the difficult phase of “growing up” ends, we rediscover our moms not just as a parent, but as a person.

One of the biggest blessings in my life is that I made that discovery when I was two minutes old. Right after I was born, my mom said nurses swaddled me into a pink blanket and handed me to her. All she saw were brown eyes and a tuft of dark hair peeking out from the little bundle coming towards her and we both knew: we looked at each other as if to say, “Oh good, there you are!” It was the recognition of being made complete.

In that moment, my mom became the best parent I could ever ask for. I was her little buddy, her tiny companion. We shared everything, did everything together, and even as our family grew and much-loved little sisters came along, she always made me feel special.

My mom was so young and so beautiful when I was born, and as I grew older people assumed she was my sister, not my mom. Even now, people are shocked when I introduce her as my mother. I have always been so proud of her, because she is one of those people whose appearance is wholly matched by her heart and her soul. I have never met anyone more lovely, inside and out.

As a child I recognized my mom was special, that I was lucky to have her. And even when I became an overly emotional teenager, my mom’s strength and wisdom and humour never wavered. I might have screamed “You’ll never understand!” as I slammed the bedroom door, but underneath the hysteria, I knew she did.

And she still does. Now that I am adult, she is the one whose opinion matters most, whose advice is the most valued. She knows my flaws, yet doesn’t judge me. And she can still comfort me like no one else can.

Today my mom is celebrating a special birthday, and I want to thank her, not just for all she does for me, but for all she means to me. She knows how I feel because I tell her every day.

But I’d like to say it again. Happy birthday, Mom! I love you.

Erin McKay is a Langley freelance writer.